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oh, little girl they just don't know |
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about the weight that you carry in your soul |
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they just don't know about the fright |
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about the people and the things you like. |
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you know you've got nothing to prove |
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the conversations borderline on rude |
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and by the time you've had enough |
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how do you tell the one you love? |
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he'll never know about the times that you cried in the movies |
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never know about the times that you cried to the music |
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about your mother or your father or the way you got your broken heart |
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and just a look will be the start |
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oh no oh no it's not your style |
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why should you have to feel like you're on trial? |
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"i wonder if he is impressed. |
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should i have worn the other dress?" |
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you've never had a doubt about yourself |
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why should you take it, then, from someone else? |
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and if by now he doesn't see, maybe it wasn't meant to be |
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he'll never know about the times that you cried in the movies |
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never know about the times that you cried to the music |
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he'll never know about the feelings that you've had about him from the start |
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he'll never know about the times that you cried in the bedroom |
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about the times that you cried in the classroom |
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about your mother or your father or the way you got your broken heart |
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and just a look could be the start |
